Early Afternoon,
	The guests are starting to wake up:
	A man asks if any's seen his head.
	A woman looks at her shredded bed.
	A man needs to get his leg fed.
	A woman paints her breast red.
	A man looks as if he's dead.
	A woman drinks and finds a head.
Oh!
	Someone must have lost his head,
		to the lady wed on the shredded bed.

A crack was born into a wall,
	It grows up just like others,
		Insecure and small.
	With a sense of unbelonging,
		It starts to fall.
The crack gets bigger and bigger,
	The wall gets smaller and smaller,
		Then one day,
		The crack cracks through the entire wall,
			But it is too late to find out,
	That there is no crack without the wall.

	
	Unzip that.
	Take it out.
		Unzip that.
		Take it out.
			Unzip that
			(this too?)
			Yes, unzip that too.
			And don't move,
			I'll take it out for you!

Another call-in
	Let's see how you are going to handle this
The voice drags on
	Like caterpillar getting drunk
You have the temptation
	To undershadow the frustration
But this is your last call
	Last call to end it all
What else would you do?
	Running a business,
		Or sleep-in at the mall?

	Exhale the sensation from the powder,
	It is time to shut up louder.
Let yourself through the mirror,
		To dance on your eyes and tremor.
	Masquerade is eaten into history,
	Masquelee is swiped into mystery.
No one will see you in the mirror,
		As no eyes will be held in terror.
	One needs not a face to see,
	But rather a place to pee,
   From  the  sensation  from  the  powder.

Be born!
	A fire, hot like blood,
		Runs through a century,
			Rising with red flood.
				Top the golden corner,
					A beam of dawn,
					   The eyes are gone,
					  Soaked in moon water,
					 Filled with skin ash,
					And the tide turns,
- Long live the new flesh!

Your face,
	my ass,
		like a bliss,
			on the piss,
				never to miss,
					a dirty kiss,
						a vis,
						a blitz,
						it fits,
						in the pits,
				like a flower on the sis.

The lady in the elevator,
	drops a stolen breath.
		Oh! 
			Who's gonna pick it up?
		Not me, I'm short on girth.
		Not me, I'm from Perth.
		Not me, I barely lived through birth.
			The man in the fourth,
		Is ready to set forth.
	But who on earth,
		Would be the man of worth?

A man went to get a stamp,
	For his application to the camp.
	He was told,
		In order to get the stamp,
		One needs to see the man with the hemp.
		But to see the man with the hemp,
		One needs to have the stamp to the camp,
		For the man with the hemp,
		Lives in the center of the camp.
	He thought for a moment,
Then takes off like a champ.

	The second-hand intuition,
		Trumps the tip-toe prohibition,
			In a split second,
				Abandoning all admonition.
	The thin fine line of life,
		Rests upon a distinct knife,
			To cut the lagging foot,
				Loose and falling fifty five.
Ouch!
						Says the Man,
		It's easier to just find a wife.